


Re:call

by Keyhala



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, MomoYuki is my jam, mentions of Banri/Yuki, might make this part of something, non-graphic descriptions of sexy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 12:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyhala/pseuds/Keyhala
Summary: He supposed in hindsight, he should’ve realised how dangerous it had been that he’d considered it a pity that the taxi had taken them all the way to the front door; Momo’s arm around his waist had been a comforting anchor, and the way they were leaning off one another had made Momo’s every semi-slurred murmur come out a touch closer to Yuki’s ear than was perhaps appropriate.Yuki recalls a 'mistake' he made 'once'.





	Re:call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TalesofGay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesofGay/gifts).



The first time had been a mistake, to and through. Even years later, even knowing what had come from it, where it had led him, and what it stemmed from, Yuki was still assured in that thought, whenever his mind decided to travel down that particular alley of memory lane.  
  
It had been a mistake; but then again, Yuki was pretty good at making mistakes.

It had been the first time one of their songs had hit a ranking on the charts. Not number one, no — that was still a distant thought at the time — but enough to be just above the cutoff of the visible listings on the webpage. Generally Yuki was certain such a thing would’ve warranted no celebration, but for a production company as small as theirs, it had likely been the greatest achievement in modern history… or something along those lines.

Regardless, there had been food, alcohol; generally the kind of merry gathering that usually gave him headaches and set his nerves on end, instinct to either hide in a corner or immerse himself in something personal flaring and barely suppressed under discipline Banri had almost beaten into him, many years before.

At the time, thinking the name had still given Yuki a sinking feeling in his gut, and he supposed it was lucky that Momo had been the only one in the room aware that it wasn’t just his general social awkwardness that was causing his dampened mood. That wasn’t to say Momo had known exactly what to do to alleviate it — and perhaps not even what in _particular_ was causing it — but at the very least Yuki had not been allowed to be left wallowing for himself for much longer. Momo had demanded another toast, poured Yuki another glass of wine, then proceeded to make a fool of himself by declaring that he’d probably go down on one knee for the next person to bring him another refill for his drink.

Yuki, comforted by the familiarity of the act, had reprimanded him for cheating and then hadn’t been able help but crack a smile at the way Momo grinned at him from across the table, muting out the laughter and other festivities around him as he nursed his wine.

That one more glass turned to two… maybe three. Or four. His memory would constantly fail him on that particular detail, but the end result was regardless that heading back to their — still shared, slightly less shabby than the one they’d started out with — apartment, they hadn’t been walking so much as they had been leaning off one another, Momo’s every offhanded comment on how ridiculous they must look making a laugh or giggle bubble up from Yuki’s throat.

He supposed in hindsight, he should’ve realised how dangerous it had been that he’d considered it a pity that the taxi had taken them all the way to the front door; Momo’s arm around his waist had been a comforting anchor, and the way they were leaning off one another had made Momo’s every semi-slurred murmur come out a touch closer to Yuki’s ear than was perhaps appropriate.

Regardless, it wasn’t supposed to have _led_ to anything in particular. But it had.

_Momo unlocked the door — celebrating the fact it only took three tries with a melodic cheer to himself — and they stumbled over each other into the entry hall, laughing perhaps more than considered sane as they fumbled with shoes and doors and jackets. Fumbling alone shouldn’t have caused any problems, but drunkenness caused problems even where none ought to be. Yuki — gracelessly, something he’d likely be embarrassed to remember come morning — stumbled on the threshold and would’ve undoubtedly fallen to certain injury had Momo not caught his arm and pulled him upright once more._

_Laughter skidded to a halt. Yuki blinked slowly upon realising the floor was not going to jump up and bite him, shifted his gaze up to his partner as his drunken mind attempted to form cohesive thought while desperately trying not to think of the sheer strength with which Momo had pulled him up, nor the way his fingers all but burned Yuki’s skin, even through his shirt._

_Yuki eventually caught his bearings a little, mustering a laugh. “That could’ve been dangerous,” he murmured, mostly in regards to injuring his face — it was part of an idol’s mantra, after all — and Momo laughed, murmuring something akin to relief over the same fact._

_Momo did not, however, let his arm go._

In the silence that had then passed — a second turning to two, then five, then thirty — Yuki recalled having looked down at where Momo was holding his arm, continuing down to where Momo’s other hand was securely placed against the curve just where waist met hip; likely to support him and not let him fall but did he really have to—

Yuki remembered the thought dying — before he could even consider voicing it —the moment that grip had tightened slightly, Momo’s voice coming out with a slight tremble as he had mumbled an apology before rather promptly pinning him to the wall.

Where Banri had been secure, methodical, and had always kissed Yuki with a sort of deliberation that had made him weak to the knees, Momo had been reckless, passionate and almost clumsy, but that didn’t change the fact that when he’d been let up for air, Yuki had been feeling foggy from more than just drink.

There had been a question hanging in the air, an ‘is this okay?’ or perhaps even a ‘do you really want this?’, but before Momo could have grasped it and put it into reality, Yuki had moved one hand to grasp his collar, pulling him in to kiss him again.

_They only stumbled a few more times on the way to the bedroom — no injuries, but a few more giggles and the occasional pause to shed a shirt or share a kiss — but Yuki hardly paid that any mind. He was focused elsewhere, from how Momo’s hands burned against his skin as they slipped below his shirt, to how he was able to feel his heart miss a beat when Momo bit into the jugular just below his ear, pulse quickening in direct response._

_Momo continued being clumsy even as they hit the futon — fumbling with buttons, with jewellery, with wrappers and lube — and Yuki eventually pushed himself up, out of breath but with a laugh, grasping Momo’s hands to halt him. “—You’ve… done this before, yes?”_

_He hadn’t intended for it to sound condescending or doubtful, but Momo flustered up, the pink dusting to his face no longer only attributed to desire, huffing sharply even as he stopped fumbling, allowing Yuki to hold his hands secure, for now. “—O-Of course I have. It’s just…”_

“— _It’s just?”_

_Momo’s next look his way was part helpless, part aggravated — and Yuki supposed he could file that away under ‘miscommunications I have no idea I was the cause of’, so he could ask Momo about it later — before he twisted his hands, grasping Yuki’s wrists instead to push him back down to the mattress, proceeding to kiss him senseless enough to be quiet._

Yuki hadn’t minded. He had never been one to seek social contact or relationships that way, but considering he hadn’t been embraced by another human being in a long while — and rational thinking had been severely inhibited by alcohol — letting Momo have his way with him in a drunken bout of passion had seemed as fitting as anything else.

There had been no ounce of hesitation in his body when he’d let his head rest back, exposing his neck for Momo to mark, nibbling and biting into the skin until every light breath or brush of lips made Yuki shudder and mewl. He’d felt no inclination for worry or uncertainty when he’d shifted his knees apart, allowing Momo what space he needed and only barely biting back the hushed gasp of his name when he’d felt him push into him, the barely familiar ache of being filled bringing tears to his eyes.

Momo had kissed those tears away, waited for him to adjust despite how Yuki had felt him trembling, and he remembered swallowing his weakness down as he’d moved his hands to reach for him, one grasping Momo’s shoulder to cling to him while the other had threaded through his hair, holding him close as he’d raised his voice to a soft usher of ‘it’s fine, it’s fine.’

The rest of the memories of that evening were blurry, at best. Granted, Yuki had heard a lot of people refer back to their ‘first time’ with someone with a sense of reverie, marking it as possibly one of the most important times but—

He’d remembered bits and pieces, and over the years that passed after he’d become familiar enough with Momo to fill in some blanks himself… whenever he felt so inclined to recall it in detail.

There’d been warmth, of course. From sweat-slicked skin to intermingling breaths, from the scorching heat of Momo’s fingertips against his body — trembling beneath the touch — to the sharp flares of pleasure with every rhythmic snap of their hips. He recalled trying to bite his voice down — alcohol may have dimmed his rational thinking, but his pride was another thing entirely — and also the way his vision had gone white when Momo had taken that as a challenge, biting into his collarbone while pulling him closer by the hips so he could reach as deep as possible with every thrust.

Considering his voice had been hoarse the morning that followed, Yuki would’ve realised he hadn’t been able to keep quiet even if he _hadn’t_ vividly remembered the almost desperate whine that had escaped him when he’d hit his peak, spilling between them even as Momo continued to move, only following suit once Yuki’d been sobbing in the overload, nails digging into his back as he clung to him.

_It took a while for the tension to fully leave his body, even with Momo stroking his sides, murmuring soft nothings in his ear and placing tender kisses along his jaw. Yuki was still holding onto him like a lifeline, but with every passing second the remnants of his high began ebbing out, until he eventually let go enough to rest back again, exhaling in a slow sigh while keeping his eyes closed, allowing everything to settle in time with their ragged breathing growing more steady again._

_They lay like that for a while, Momo’s whispers quieting but the soft kisses and gentle touches remaining, and Yuki found himself mimicking the slow, circular motions of Momo’s fingertips with his own, drawing invisible lines along the skin at the back of Momo’s shoulders. Eventually though, he wetted his lips and drew a breath, the sound of which made Momo pause, a brief flash of tension showing in his frame; Yuki could easily feel it beneath his fingertips now._

_Feeling his lips curve into a smile, Yuki maintained the slow circles until he could feel Momo start relaxing again, then picked up his intended train of thought. “—…I owe you an apology.”_

“ _Huh?” If the situation hadn’t been what it was, Yuki would’ve laughed at the look of sheer confusion on Momo’s face as he’d pulled back enough to look at him, hair mussed and skin still flushed red in residual desire, but eyes wide and eyebrows raised in question. Instead, he just let the smile widen a touch, moving one hand to brush through Momo’s hair, in a futile attempt to bring it back to order. Wonder how bad his own was looking, right now—_

“ _Mm. I was teasing you for fumbling before but… you obviously do know what you’re doing. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”_

_Momo’s expression shifted from surprised to bemused — brows furrowing a touch — before eventually to realisation, huffing out a laugh even as Yuki could feel the heat rising to his ears from where he was still fussing with Momo’s hair. “—That’s okay. It… was rather pathetic.”_

“ _Wouldn’t call it pathetic,” Yuki shook his head, eventually giving up on his endeavour to help Momo look more presentable to instead draw his hand down his neck and shoulder, then down his chest — relishing briefly in how Momo’s breath stuttered, even if for just a second — before dropping it down to the mattress next to him, “—Cute, perhaps, but not pathetic.”_

Momo had sputtered at that. Being called ‘cute’ after all but fucking someone senseless probably wasn’t the most flattering adjective — Yuki had filed that away for future reference — but the reaction had almost reinforced it even further. Yuki had gotten a taste of his own medicine though; Momo’s grand retaliation boiled down to a ‘no _you’re_ cute’ and once you hit that level of argument, there wasn’t much maturity left.

So a few underhanded compliments, short laughs and stolen kisses later, they’d succumbed to sleep entwined tightly with one another.

It could’ve been a proper fairytale kind of ending, left as it was, but the following morning had brought more than just hangovers and sore muscles. The realisation of what they’d done — outside of merely the act itself, because physical intimacy and desire wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, it was basic biology, as far as Yuki was concerned — all but crashed down the moment Yuki had awoken; tightly wrapped in Momo’s embrace and throat feeling raw to the point his instinctual worry had been whether or not he’d even be able to sing come Monday.

_The sky outside the window was still dark, so Yuki suspected it was less ‘morning’ and more ‘too early in the morning to be early in the morning’, but for once he didn’t even spare a thought to lamenting his occasional spike of insomnia._

_No, they had an issue here. Momo’s —…and his, for that matter — actions the night before had been reckless. No less genuine, perhaps, but reckless all the same. Banri and him had experienced a similar dilemma, in the budding stages of their own relationship.The difference then had been, that at that time, re:vale was an unknown. No Agency, no Manager, nothing tying them firmly to the industry. Now, however…_

_They were idols. This, whatever_ _**this** _ _was, was a disaster waiting to happen._

_Yuki swallowed — trying to not worry too much about how bad his voice would sound if he tried using it — before sighing, resting back down again. He’d never been good at this. For better or worse, both in their professional and personal lives, Banri had been the one taking the lead. Banri was the experienced one._

_This time… It wasn’t like either of them were inexperienced — evidently, even though Yuki_ _**had** _ _worried for a second there — either with physical intimacy or the idol business… but they really — probably, most likely? — couldn’t risk their careers on a thing like physical attraction._

_Ugh, his head was killing him. Thinking — on top of lack of sleep, a hangover, and the soreness of one out of practice with intercourse — was not a good idea. Resigning with a sigh, he cuddled closer to Momo once more — trying and failing to resist a smile as he murmured something in his sleep and held him tighter — before closing his eyes again._

_Once Momo woke, they’d have to talk about this._

They hadn’t talked about it when Momo woke. They had shared a few kisses — slightly more tentative; testing and gauging boundaries, as far as Yuki could tell from how Momo was behaving — before getting out of bed. Momo had freaked for a good few minutes — apologising profusely — about the marks left on Yuki’s neck and shoulder, Yuki had complained about the soreness, and both of them had shared a semi-embarrassed laugh at the marks Yuki’s nails had left on the back of Momo’s shoulders.

But they hadn’t spoken about what it insinuated. What it had meant. Was it supposed to have been a one time thing? Just frustration and alcohol leading up to taking advantage of one another? Something more?

A mistake?

Yuki had known he should’ve brought it up. He should’ve taken the initiative to bring it up… but he didn’t. Maybe because a part of him didn’t, had never, would never, feel like it was anything particularly wrong. Momo had wanted him, and he’d had no inclination to deny him.

And that was precisely the problem, he’d suspected.

Eventually they had come to some sort of action regarding it. Not quite recalling when they’d talked about it — perhaps they never had, perhaps they just accepted it, perhaps they had both realised the same thing… perhaps he’d just forgotten about it — Yuki just knew that in his mind, he’d decided it was a good way to minimise the risk of repeats, of mishaps, of risks.

They had applied for separate apartments.

A week to the day after that, however, Momo had complimented his choice of colour scheme for his home decor, lounging together in Yuki’s living room, no more than a few minutes after he’d complimented him physically, thrusting into him with enough force to move the sofa a few inches off position.

And Yuki would still, years later, occasionally draw a few fingertips along the scratches on the floorboards whenever he woke from a midday nap, smiling fondly at the memory. After all, that second time—

—That’s when it had gone from a mistake to a habit.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is lame, I know. I'll re:name it if I come up with something better.
> 
> I tried out a different writing style for this, so I guess this is a big 'eff you' to all people who ever told me to never use passive voice.
> 
> Aside from that, all kudos and comments are appreciated and loved forever.
> 
> I might make a series of small oneshots like this, if people are interested so... let me know what you think!


End file.
